


fly

by owlinaminor



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Confession, F/F, Gay Feelings, Gen, spoilers for chp 232
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-02 00:24:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8644174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlinaminor/pseuds/owlinaminor
Summary: Karasuno's motto doesn't only apply to its team.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [i've looked at this for five hours now](https://twitter.com/owlinaminor/status/801890213538787329)
> 
> shoutout to [becky](https://twitter.com/dickaeopolis) for beta-ing this on mobile when she had dogs to pet. she's a good friend.

> _I may not stand on the court.  I may not wear the uniform.  But right now, at this very moment, I stand with them on the front line of the battlefield._

Shimizu Kiyoko can fly.

Hitoka is sure she is more than human – has been sure ever since she was being approached in the school hallway, stammering up at a glossy-haired girl with eyes that shone bright as a starlit sky and a smile that could project warmth into the furthest reaches of the galaxy.  

“Would you become the manager of the boys’ volleyball team?” Kiyoko asked.

Hitoka heard those words as though they were sinking down through five meters of water.  Her field of vision narrowed to single points – first the girl’s eyes, then her smile, then back to her eyes, gazing at Hitoka as though she might hold the gold at the end of a centuries-long rainbow.

She wasn’t sure what the beautiful girl was asking her, but she knew that she would do it.  She would do anything to stand near this girl – to listen to her melodious voice – to learn from the wisdom clear in her sky-blue eyes.  She would scale mountains, she would swim oceans, she would face monsters.

Being the manager of the Karasuno boys’ volleyball team – it’s difficult, it’s scary, but it’s nothing compared to what Hitoka has gotten in return.

Hitoka was stunned that day in the hallway, and she has been stunned every day since.  Her heart beats faster when Kiyoko is near, beats louder, beats as though it’s trying to escape her chest, beats as though it knows that proximity to a girl this magnificent is more than she deserves.  Hitoka is sure she is more than human – but she has not been able to put her finger on quite _how._  

She has watched Kiyoko tuck stray hair behind her ear, and wondered if she’s a goddess of beauty, bringing light to a dark world.  It would make sense, Hitoka supposed.  Kiyoko shines in a way that Hitoka has never seen from any flashlight or candle or torch – shines quietly and imperceptibly, brightening the space around her from the inside out.  And nobody quite notices until their chests feel overwhelmingly warmer, sweeter, as though they just swallowed hot chocolate.

She has watched Kiyoko calculate volleyball scores and team statistics and improvement rankings, and wondered if she’s a superhero, with powers of boundless intelligence.  It would make sense, Hitoka supposed.  Kiyoko always knows precisely what to do in any situation, whether it’s Asahi losing his headband or Yamaguchi saying he’s forgotten how to serve or Tanaka trying to start a fight with another team.  She never panics, never raises her voice – somehow, she manages to be prepared for anything.  Only a superhero could be that smart, that levelheaded.  Hitoka thinks she must have been brought to life from the pages of a detective manga, or bitten by a radioactive calculator when she was younger.

She has watched Kiyoko laugh, at something ridiculous Hinata has done or something dorky Suga has said, and wondered if she’s a fairy from an old story, casting a spell of elation on everyone she meets.  It would make sense, Hitoka supposed.  Kiyoko doesn’t laugh often, but when she does, the whole team stops to listen – her laughter is musical as birdsong, beautiful as a field of wildflowers, warm as a mountain hot spring.  Hitoka has made her laugh a few rare, incredible times, and each time, she’s felt invincible.  Because if she could make Kiyoko happy, even for a few seconds – she must be able to do anything.

She has watched Kiyoko smile at her – kindly, so kindly, so kindly that Hitoka knew her rapidly-beating heart was seconds from shattering – one day a few weeks ago, in the hallway after a Friday afternoon practice, the setting sun painting the sky into a garden of roses behind her.

“I’m flattered – incredibly flattered – that you would tell me such things, Hitoka-chan,” Kiyoko had said.  “And I love you a lot, too.  But there are two years between us, and I’m going to leave for college in a few months … I don’t think a romantic relationship would be a good idea.”

Hitoka shook her head, her vision blurry, as though she was looking at Kiyoko through a cloud heavy with rain.

“I don’t – I didn’t want a – a romantic relationship,” she stammered, ducking her head.  “I feel so … I already find it hard to breathe when you stand next to me, I don’t know if I could survive you holding my hand, or … or kissing, or …”

Hitoka shook her head.  The images were already too much.  She put a hand on her heart, willed it to slow down.  Told it she was only talking, only standing.  Everything would be fine.  Everything would be fine.

Her heart only beat faster.  She couldn’t particularly blame it – her head didn’t believe herself, either.

Hitoka glanced at Kiyoko’s face – beautiful, stars in her eyes and warmth in her smile – then took a deep breath and shouted –

_“I just wanted you to know that I think you’re incredible and that I would do anything for you!”_

Hitoka stood, trembling.  Hands at her sides, clenched into fists.  Head down, eyes watering.  She felt like a climbing flower ripped from the fence and told to stand on her own.

And then, she felt something solid around her.  Arms encircling her waist, a chest pressed up against hers, a forehead rested on her hair.  Hitoka felt warm, impossibly warm – as though she was enveloped in sunshine.

“I think you’re incredible, and I would do anything for you, too,” Kiyoko whispered.  “You’re going to be such a good manager.”

Hitoka has watched Kiyoko for months.  But she has never watched her quite as she watches her now – appearing over the railing of the stands, face flushed pink as a sunrise, holding Hinata’s bag above her head like a trophy.

Kiyoko used to be a hurdler in junior high, on her school’s track team.  Hitoka can imagine her soaring over the hurdles, legs spread, eyes shining, brighter than the sky above her.  And Hitoka can imagine her racing to get Hinata’s bag, tearing down staircases and up hills, dark hair flowing out behind her like a glittering stream, people dashing to clear her path because they didn’t know who she was, but they could tell she was important.

She was important.  She is important.  She is the manager of the Karasuno boys’ volleyball team – and she is Hitoka’s friend.

Shimizu Kiyoko is not a goddess of beauty, nor is she a superhero, nor is she a fairy.  She is human.  

She is human, but she is not only human – she is more than human, incredibly human, beautifully human.  She is human in the way that the glittering lights of Tokyo are human, the way that an ancient romance poem is human, the way that the smoke emanating up from chimneys early on winter mornings is human.  She embodies something that Hitoka has always strove for without quite realizing it – something like kindness, or wisdom, or love.

Kiyoko stands in the bleachers, her cheeks flushed, grinning as though she just won a tournament.  She holds up Hinata’s bag like a trophy, and tosses it down.

Hitoka catches it.  Kiyoko grins.

Hitoka doesn’t have to listen hard to hear the words unspoken in Kiyoko’s smile – the _I trust you_ , the _I’m proud of you_ , the _you’re incredible._  Hitoka doesn’t have to hesitate before grinning back, wide and bright and overflowing with pride.

Kiyoko must have run so fast, to get Hinata’s bag here in time for the match.  She must have sprinted – no, she must have flown.

And if she can fly, Hitoka can fly, too.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/owlinaminor) / [tumblr](http://owlinaminor.tumblr.com/)


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